


long gone

by lubbydub



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dreams, Gen, i rewrote the intro 4 times, i wrote this all in one shot despite having an outline for like months, sominari orsino, sort of meresino because i intended this to be pre-relationship, weird 1 am fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lubbydub/pseuds/lubbydub
Summary: Meredith sleeps, and Orsino dreams.
Kudos: 6





	long gone

He only has moments.

Orsino draws runes in paper, hasty but precise-- he's done this hundreds of times over, but this magical process is an unendingly complex one that he still only has a basic grasp on, after all this time. The drawer with the secret panel hiding bottles of lyrium rattles with the force of his tug, making him wince.

Across the hall, Meredith sleeps. That in itself is already a rarity, rarer than a day going by without her dogs abusing one of his mages. He's cursed her inhuman resilience time and time again, going days on end without rest, without leaving herself unguarded. Though, he supposes that is what let her rise to Knight-Commander so quickly, untimely death of her predecessor notwithstanding.

Orsino listens closely to the other side of the hall, past her door, for any signs of her waking. At this hour, the Gallows is as quiet as any of its namesake's victims. Even he, considerably deaf among his Dalish equivalents, could hear a pin drop from behind that wooden door.

Nothing. Not even the scratch of a quill. Good.

He uncorks his lyrium potions; undiluted, for strength, and fights back the urge to spit it up as the bitter fluid goes down his throat, one dose after the other. As his lips form around the incantations and the magic surges through his system like a bolt of lightning, he barely remembers to set the bottles down quietly, closing his eyes against the bursts of magic that bloom across his vision.

Gloved fingers grip the edge of his desk, and he sinks through to the Dream.

He surfaces in the Fade, breaking through the treacle-thick fog and feeling like his head has been put on upside down. The only indicator that he's succeeded is the lightness of his body; his office is almost identical otherwise. He steps around the desk that has regrown its worn-away corners, more out of habit than anything. The hinge of his door no longer creaks, quiet as he remembers it.

Meredith is still asleep-- He can see the edge of her dream, in the daylight, where the Gallows is in the night. So she _can_ dream, he thinks with a sardonic quirk of his lips. The snipe at her unfeeling core aside, he is giddy with anticipation. This is where her weakness lies, where he can pull out her heart of darkness and hold it over her pleading head.

Orsino feels himself being pulled into a body, standing just outside her door. Curious-- she is dreaming of _him_. Not directly, perhaps, but her mind has him playing a role not unlike that on a stage. He lets the dream pull his strings, if only to see where it goes. His hand reaches for the door and makes to pull it open, a smile pulling on his lips. It feels proud, and happy, and he wonders what Meredith could possibly want him to tell her.

A hand rests gently on his shoulder, startling him. He turns to look, and finds Meredith standing there.

No, not quite.

Her nose is too delicate, her eyes too kind, her jaw too soft. He knows Meredith's scowling, imperious face well enough to know this isn't her. Inside, he is unnerved by this stranger. But he nods, his smile reflecting nothing of his thoughts, and knocks on Meredith's door.

"Enter."

That, at least, is the same as it always is.

The woman lets him through first, though she cuts him off when he opens his mouth to speak. Meredith looks up at the same time, mildly surprised.

"I've passed my Harrowing, Meredith! Isn't that grand?" the stranger says, voice shaking with adrenaline and elation. Meredith smiles, looking unnatural and years younger, softer, at the same time, standing from her seat.

"I knew you could, Amelia."

Orsino's contribution is barely acknowledged by the two; "She performed perfectly. Not even a twitch until she awoke."

"Thanks to your guidance, First Enchanter!" Amelia chirps happily, whirling around to face him. He only nods. She turns back around, picking up Meredith's hand from her desk and clasping it tightly.

Meredith no longer looks overjoyed when he turns his gaze back to her.

A face from his past stares back at him, empty, longing, _alone._

The little boy that had lost his best friend to herself.

Amelia doesn't notice.

"If only you had sent me here, little sister," says the ghost, quietly. Meredith says nothing. He feels the dream telling him to turn around, to take Amelia from her.

He doesn't, but Amelia leaves on her own. Meredith stands, still, looking as though a breeze could knock her over. She locks eyes with him--

Orsino blinks, left in the stillness.

He blinks again, his limbs and his tongue leaden with corporeality. Meredith is awake, and so is he. Something surges inside him, desperate and harried.

It isn't true, _it isn't_. Maker, but his enemy is more dangerous than he ever realised! She truly is inhuman, after all. An unearthly thing, specially made by the Chantry to keep the Gallows on a tight leash. There is no other explanation for the uniquely-tailored _lie_ he has just been fed, and been expected to swallow down! He shakes as he rises, still feeling like weights have been tied to his wrists and ankles.

Oh, he has to let her know. That he has her figured out and that she cannot break him. He almost had her fooled, she did! When he barges into her office without knocking, a wry smirk to disguise his unsettled state, the crow of triumph dies on his lips.

Meredith looks up at him from her seat, as if she is still dreaming. Her shoulders are slumped, her hands unclenched. The sapphire blue of her eyes shine bright with tears and open vulnerability, like a gaping wound. He can see deeper into her than she wants, than even he wants.

And all he can do is stand there, stricken in the same way.


End file.
